She let out a little cry and flew back against the wall, landing on her side. Her face was bright red and I could see tears welling up in her eyes. The next thing I knew I was on my feet and seeing red.
John, whoever he was, turned back to me and put his grubby little hands on my shotgun again. I had a much better grip on it now that I was on my feet, with one hand holding the stock and the other in front of the trigger guard. “What the hell’s your problem, John-boy?” I yelled at him.
The bastard finally looked at me. I could see the insanity raging in his eyes. He’d gone off somewhere to la-la land and I didn’t think he was ever coming back. The only thing on his mind was my gun. “Give it to me, boy,” he hissed. “This is our place, now, and we’re going to protect it. Give me the gun and you can stay here.”
I laughed in his face. “The only way you’re getting this shotgun is if you pry it out of my cold, dead hands.”
“That can be arranged, Duke,” a voice spoke out from behind him.
I looked and couldn’t tell which one of them had spoken, but they all suddenly surged forward. For a moment I couldn’t tell the difference between them and the zombie horde outside. John got a better grip on the shotgun barrel and twisted, tugging it partly out of my hands.
I panicked for a second, seeing the group of them coming at me. I glanced at Fannie Mae, seeing the red handprint on her face and a trickle of blood coming from her nose. She had a look of complete shock on her face, not believing how quickly the situation in here had imploded. I should have listened to Barrett. He was right when he said that the survivors banding together was nothing but a joke.
Only the length of the shotgun barrel separated me and John. He had it gripped tightly in both hands. A pristine calmness suddenly settled over me and clarity filled my mind. It was a simple matter to shift my grip on the gun and put my finger on the trigger. Twenty pounds of pressure or so and a tight squeeze and the roar of the shotgun filled the air. I felt a wave of something pass from me to him, almost like a live wire connected us. An almost comical expression of surprise crossed John’s face and his mouth opened in an “O” of astonishment. His hands flew apart, pinwheeling in the air as he flew backwards to the ground, the group behind him spreading apart to allow him to splat to the floor.
They all looked at me with fear and surprise on their faces. I hoped I’d taken the fight out of them.
I looked down at John and the gaping hole he had in his chest. White bone peeked out through the gristle of the muscle and blood seeped out of the wound. He tried to speak, opening and closing his mouth several times, but the only thing to come out of his mouth was sprays of blood. Then he stopped moving.
I stood there, breathing hard, with the gun pointed in his general direction. I didn’t think he’d get back up since he’d been shot by me rather than having been bitten by a zombie, but you can never be sure. His buddies stood arrayed several feet back from his corpse, still eying my gun hungrily. It was like the altercation with John hadn’t even happened. Fortunately, none of them were quite prepared yet to take me on. I could see Washington across the room but he didn’t even bother coming over to check on us. Bastard figured we could take care of ourselves.
I stepped over to Fannie Mae and stood over her, both hands still on the shotgun and pointing it in the general direction of the rebels. “You okay, Fannie Mae?”
She got to her feet and stood next to me, rubbing her jaw. “Yeah, I think so. He clocked me a good one. I’m lucky it was open-handed. If he hit me that hard with a closed fist I think I’d be dead or unconscious right now.”
One of their group finally came forward and checked John’s pulse, long after I knew the shit was dead. He looked at me accusingly. “He’s dead. You killed him.”
“Yeah,” I said. “That’s what he gets for trying to take the gun away from me. Would you like a turn next?”
He stood up and stared at me. “Yeah, I think I would, Duke. I don’t think you could kill a man in cold blood. I’m Adam, now why don’t you just give me the gun?”
I felt that grim smile cross my face and chambered another shell, the sound of the used one falling to the ground loud in the quiet. “Who said my blood was cold?”
Who knows how bad the situation would have gotten at that point if John hadn’t chosen that exact moment to sit up? Would I have shot all those living people to keep my gun and keep me and Fannie Mae safe? You bet I would have. But I’m not sure the swarm of them would have let me get them all and they probably could have gotten the gun away from me eventually. And then I’m sure they’d have turned it on me.
But none of that was meant to be.
One of the women in the group let loose a piercing shriek when John sat up. He didn’t immediately attack any of us, just sat there dumbly and swiveling at the waist to look around at us all. His eyes finally locked on me and he reached both hands in my direction. Just awesome.
John’s hand brushed against Adam’s leg. When he did that his eyes swiveled to Adam and I swear I saw some kind of feral, animal intelligence in them. It was like he was completely empty until he saw the food. His fingers tightened and he got a full grip of the jeans that Adam was wearing and pulled him backwards until John was eclipsed from view underneath him.
Adam’s shriek filled the air as John’s teeth finally found purchase in him. From the crunch I’d say it was somewhere near the spine. That and the fact that his legs and arms had been twitching madly in a desperate attempt to get away and now suddenly they were still. Zombie-John rolled them over until he was on top and I could see that Adam was still alive, but completely paralyzed. Which begged the question of what would happen if you had a paralyzed zombie? If the person couldn’t move when they were alive would they be able to move when they were a zombie?
I didn’t give us the chance to find out.
Stepping forward I put the end of the barrel square against the side of John’s head. He must have felt the iron against his flesh but he was too busy trying to eat. I pulled the trigger and his brains and blood flew all over the paralyzed man below him. Adam shook his head violently at me and mouthed the word no several times. I shrugged at him apologetically and shot him in the head.
The two dead men lay on top of each other in a weird parody of love, both their heads completely missing from the proximity of the blasts. I swept my gaze over the rest of the group. “Does anyone else want any?”
They honestly looked like they did. They were nuts. But that was when Washington and his men came forward, brandishing their guns. “Break it up,” Wash said.
They looked at each other warily. I could see them testing the idea of whether they could fight us all. One of the men stepped forward, midway between me and Washington. “We want guns, Washington. We want to get out of here.”
Wash pointed to the door. “No one’s keeping you here, Tanner. You and your people can go if you want.”
I stepped forward and opened my mouth but Washington looked at me pointedly and I stepped back. If this was how he wanted to handle this then fine.